


Fire In the Blood

by Dolimir



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex wants it to end where it began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire In the Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Oxoniensis's The Intoxication Challenge - Of Blood and Wine. Other stories for this challenge can be found at: http://oxoniensis.popullus.net/intoxication/main.htm

_"When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!"_   
\-- John Dryden

Another assassination attempt.

When had horrific alliteration become commonplace?

During his rebellious Metropolis teen years, the only one trying to kill him was him. Drugs. Alcohol. Anything he could find to dull the pain - the pain of being a freak, of being motherless, of being not quite good enough.

In Smallville he had considered asking the mayor to issue Luthor hunting licenses; at least, that way the attempts on his life would have been confined to certain months of the year.

Nietzsche had said that which does not kill you makes you stronger. Nietzsche was an existentialistic pussy. He could take his theory of Ubermensch and shove it up his philosophical German ass.

Superman, indeed.

The less said on that subject the better.

Shifting into fifth gear, the Spyder screamed down the highway. He wondered with a flick of amusement if he could break the sound barrier before he hit a cow.

His father had sent him to Smallville to test his mettle, to see if he was strong enough to survive isolation, mutants and murderous wives. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he had succeeded, although he knew he hadn’t embraced the lessons Lionel had wanted him to learn.

Smallville had taught him to trust no one. Everyone always wanted something from a Luthor. In that respect his father had been correct. Whether it be saving an abandoned movie theater or having the Sharks play for an evening in a high school stadium for a dying man who would never see his son play professionally, everyone had a favor to ask. He'd given them what they'd wanted, only wanting a chance at friendship in return, a chance to be seen as himself and not his name.

But in the end, he had been deemed nothing more than a Luthor. Not worthy of trust or friendship or the simplest of truths.

Yes, Smallville had made him stronger. It had made him more than ready for his re-entry into Metropolis society.

Lionel had wanted his Alexander, but even Phillip had been surprised by the bloodthirstiness of his son. He had taken the business world by storm, starting with LuthorCorp.

His side burned, but he refused to look down, refused to acknowledge the growing stain on his jacket.

After all, it was nothing more than the wine of life, right?

He had sweated blood for years. What would it hurt to spill it a little faster?

How did a person occupy their time when there was nothing left to conquer? He was untouchable in the business world. He ruled Metropolis to the point where a frown could ruin a lifetime of work and a smile could elevate sycophants to masters in their own right.

There was pressure for him to consider the White House, but he knew the temptation would be too great. Not that he couldn't rule, but Cassandra Carver's death still haunted him.

Which left him where?

Bleeding to death and racing down the highway, feeling freer than he had in years, building up the courage to put an end to a life that should have ceased ten years before. He wondered if anyone other than Clark would find his going back to the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning poetic.

Clark, with his brilliant green eyes and intoxicating innocence, making him believe that he was salvageable, then refusing to save him.

His Brutus.

His Judas.

His savior and crucifier.

While Caesar had March, he would content himself with the Ides of October.

Poetic.

That all of his beginnings and endings should happen during Smallville Octobers.

Giddiness surged through his veins, almost like being drunk.

He looked forward to the cool water of relief, knowing he wouldn't need to be strong any longer, knowing he would be free from the shackles of his destiny, liberated from desiring what he couldn't have and pretending not to hear the song his heart sang.

Releasing the wheel to take flight, he was startled by a pair of green eyes staring at him in shock. Deja vu washed over him cold and bitter as the river once again flooded his car. But unlike before, he embraced the darkness and sought his peace.

*-*-*-*-*-*

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was bathed in Arctic white light and furs. His mind refused to contemplate the thought of heaven, and he doubted, even with all his dealings, that he rated such luxury in hell.

Eyes, still as innocent as they had been so many years before, appeared in his line of sight and he was struck by how his heart still cried out for the beauty which cut him deeper than any razor.

"I could have sworn I hit you."

Soft hands cupped his face as warm lips breathed life back into his body. "You did, Lex. You did."

~ End ~


End file.
